


i wrote you a tragedy

by goreallegore



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:55:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7296670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goreallegore/pseuds/goreallegore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Direction is an empire that has fans that are willing to do a lot for their precious members. Isn’t it funny how the ocean is willing to do the same for Niall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	i wrote you a tragedy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abderian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abderian/gifts).



> This fic is a piece of work that is basically a combination of mostly everything I adore. I am a huge superhero nerd and am in love with everything Niall. So, here's a fic about basically that. This wouldn't have been possible without katelyn, and hope. And of course, my right hand and partner in crime, sav and amy. Like everything I write is dedicated to people I love. This one is for katelyn.

###  **_"_** _Superheroes always have broken hearts_  
_And tragic backstories, so maybe I’m doing okay" -_

_Clementine von Radics, “When He Asks Me to Describe Fear,” _A Mouthful of Forevers_ _

 

 

Niall picks at the bandage until it comes off a little, the beginnings of a gash right below the curve of his thumb and forefinger peeking out teasingly. A bright light reflects over his head, and he imagines how funny his hair must look from the outside - brightened thanks to the sunlight -, but then the dry patch of tiles dance with rays that skitter to the edge of the pool. He’d once read that when you’re underwater you’re not wet, the liquid glides off the the stretch of your skin, and when he was younger he didn’t get it. 

__

He gets it, now. 

__

He twirls his finger in the water forming a spiral that grows with every turn. The pattern is mesmerizing enough that he doesn’t hear the first call of his name.

__

A hand dips into the water getting a hold of his shoulder firmly, tightly almost, dragging him out of the water, “What the fuck? This is the third time this week, Niall.” Liam looks concerned, eyebrows knitted together. 

__

Niall shrugs, trudging towards the towel laying on the beach chair and picking it up to dry himself off. Liam’s still looking at him, and they’d come out here to relax, to do their ‘lads holiday’ it’s been anything but seeing that Louis and Harry haven’t stopped bickering - which is surprising on it’s own, kind of makes him miss the silent ignoring. 

__

The sun is ducking under the horizon of the brazilian coast, the sky an array of orange hues melting into pinks, and yellows. Niall thinks,  _ it is the same here, the same everywhere. _

__

They could be at the top of the world or steady with their feet pressing prints into the ground, but there isn’t anything changing about it. It all looks the same even when the night sky blankets pitch black with bright welts punctured over their heads, shimmery sometimes, other times soft almost invisible.

__

Liam follows after him to the Villa they’d rented out near the Florianópolis beach, sliding the glass door open and stepping in, his feet damp against the cold hardwood floor. There is rustling coming from the kitchen, careless words thrown that cease at the sight of him and Liam. He’d laugh, he doesn’t see why they have to stop as if they aren’t aware, but at least they have the simple courtesy to. Niall opens the fridge the bandage on his hand falling gracelessly to the tiled floor. He ducks down to pick it and grabs the jug of mango juice with his other hand. 

__

He places the pitcher on the granite countertop, disposing the band-aid into the bin, and goes to pull a glass from the cabinet, but Harry’s already handing him over one. 

__

“What happened to your hand?” He asks, not meeting his eyes quite.

__

“If you two took a moment to stop with the fights you’d have noticed the rental car’s engine crapped out last night,” he bites, but stops. This isn’t his fight, “Had to fix it this morning and while doing so, closing the hood and all, the hook scrapped it. Wasn’t paying attention cause -” Right, cause Harry and Louis had started fighting again. 

__

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes, like he knows. Niall looks up and see the slight tint to his eyes,  _ oh _ . He knows. 

__

“This was a terrible idea,” Louis grumbles, sipping his tea. “Who’s fucking idea was it anyway to take this trip?”

__

Ironic, but all three of them don’t pass up on the opportunity to point at him. And that just causes him to grumble more. Liam splurts into a laugh, and Niall’s follows right after. It isn’t long before Louis and Harry are joining in. It isn’t always that bad, he reckons. 

__

They calm down long enough for dinner which they have bookings for at the Santa Marta Bistro. The restaurant with the homey atmosphere right at the mouth of the beach. Niall can’t help, but wander down after dinner to the wooden table set on the sandy terrain. His fingers curling into the warm, coarse, sand. The ocean is blue and he wonders if it’s warm enough for a swim - could be cold and frigid against the tightness of his muscles. 

__

He passes up on the chair and sits on the ground, the breeze flailing his hair around since he’d forgotten to put in any product. He’s sure he’ll need a shower after. The fairy lights strung across the canopy ceiling of the restaurant are like fireflies in the midnight sky and it is calm. Time has hit a stop, he thinks. Unintentionally, he stretches his arm to splay out his hand and then curling his fingers; repeating the motion twice, maybe, thrice. The water beckons at his command drifting towards the length of his fingers, and  _ he can do that _ . 

__

One Direction is an empire that has fans that are willing to do a lot for their precious members. Isn’t it funny how the ocean is willing to do the same for Niall? 

__

\--

Niall flicks on the light to his room, one of the bigger one’s in the house, and sees the made bedsheets. Before coming upstairs he’d heard Liam and Louis planning to hit the clubs, or something. A night out, Liam had said. Niall can’t be arsed right now feeling too much all at once. The past five years have been go go go, so he didn’t stop to think and now that he is it is hard to stop. Right as soon as the break had started he’d jumped in to travelling and planning events to keep himself busy by being around people who’d been fairly  _ normal _ in equal parts. This holiday though is throwing him off the rocker. 

__

He crosses the length of the plush carpet laid out on the floor and settles on the foot of the bed, dropping on his back with an arm covering his eyes.  _ It will pass _ , he reminds himself. Ignoring the way he can hear the meters away ocean buzzing softly in his eardrum; it’s not demanding, just present. He doesn’t know how long he stays there lying motionless, but it’s the soft knock on his already open door that wills him to open an eye. Harry is leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed.

__

“Hey,” it comes out soft, softer than how he’d spoken to him earlier in the day, softer than he’s been with him all trip. Louis’ and his fight is theirs, but it isn’t also not when it touches the band and eats it whole. It is about Harry drifting - a long time coming, if so. 

__

“You haven’t talked to me since I got here,” Harry notes, the steadiness in his voice similar to the ocean waves crashing against the large rocks outside. Niall wonders if there could be a flood, a wave strong enough to drown the shingled roofs like another trophy to bury - to keep. Niall wonders if he can cause that flood. 

__

“One of us fighting is enough,” Niall answers, instead. Harry already knows the ‘why’. There is a flash across Harry’s face, Niall would say he’s hurt, but it’s not like he can tell anymore. That one is all Harry’s. He feels regardless cause Harry’s the youngest and they forgot to spoil him because they’d thought the world was busy doing a great job at it - it was - but Niall wishes it had been just them. 

__

Harry looks down, eyes hooded under the shadow of the door, “You’re all mad at me.” Incorrect, Liam could never. “You shouldn’t have been so disinterested,” Niall retorts, again  _ unfair _ .

__

He doesn’t stop, “You’re good, H.” It doesn’t sound right, the casualty of saying it, the impersonal feeling, so he corrects himself, “I mean, Haz.” Harry’s head jerks up at that, and there is close to a smile, or the beginning of one. Niall isn’t entirely sure. 

__

Harry turns to leave, stopping. “The band, you guys. It isn’t the same thing for me.” 

__

Niall understands in his wake. Of course it isn’t. They aren’t just the sticky poster taped on chipped walls of your college dorm room, they’re four boys, four  _ real boys _ who’ve learned to love when unlikely. The band is what others created for them. For themselves it is much simpler, much dearer. They’re just friends. 

__

-

__

Niall first hears it in portuguese, words broken to understand, then in spanish which he does catch on to, but brushes past it thinking it’s another one of those things. Things like that are unlikely. Liam is talking about how he saw a fishermen selling Carp and Harry is arguing quite heatedly that it was in fact a Bass, but it’s Louis who’s pulling him in by the elbow asking, “What’s wrong?”

__

Niall blanches at that. They shouldn’t be so acutely aware of each other’s slight change in behavior, not after the distance they’d forcedly put between one another, but they are, “Just heard some vendors.” He waves it off trying to think of something to distract himself eyeing the line of produce stacked on carts and planks of food to sample from. Niall loves the Bazaar feel, the freeness under the open sky that is mixing to the smells of food and drinks. 

__

They stop at a fruit cart, Harry reaching to grab a plum and squeezing to check if it’s soft at the core. Louis’ fussing about how long he’s taking, but then the vendor starts talking, “You’re beautiful.”

__

Harry’s caught off guard, but it barely fazes the rest of them. This is routine, they’ve been on the end of these things, but then the frail old woman is saying, eyes intently reading the lines stretching under his eyes from the smile she’d evoked, “But so sad.”

__

Niall tenses at that, shifting his weight off the cart, feeling Louis hover behind Harry almost protectively. Fiercely. Harry doesn’t notice, if he does he doesn’t make a move to flinch, “What do you mean?”

__

“You’re sad, there’s something about you, you’re not happy,” then her eyes are darting around to Louis’, crinkling her nose a little at the sight. “You’re angry.” 

__

Louis’ patience is wearing thin, Niall can tell, but he’s too far to hold him down luckily Liam’s grabbing him by the forearm steadying him not to do anything stupid. In a circle she goes around to the next person. Liam. 

__

“You’re holding on too tight.  _ Let go _ ,” Liam stumbles at that a little. Rocks on his heel behind Louis and Harry. They wait for her to say something to Niall, but she doesn’t, and Harry drops the plum, 

__

“We’ll look somewhere else, thank you,” Harry says, polite. She nods, understanding like she’d expected that, to make her prospective customers run away, but before they leave she’s reaching to tug at Niall’s sleeve, and whispering - loud enough for only him to hear. “You’re looking to find in the wrong place. You’re starting too far. Start where it means most..”

__

They walk in sync after that with the sleeve of Niall’s shirt still burning every time it brushes his skin, the woman’s touch lingering long after, and they don’t talk about it because they’re terrified in their own way. Liam points out the coconut water being sold at the far end of the market so they all follow after him, his fingers wrapped around Louis’ wrist pulling him forward with force. Niall gives him a gentle nudge and they both go running towards the stand, Niall and Harry following at a much slower pace. 

__

Niall’s passes Harry when he notices the other boy has stopped, but he doesn’t turn, offers a hand which he stretches to the back, and he takes it. They don’t need to fret over this right now, not right this second. 

__

Harry’s fingers are smoother than his own calloused one. They’ve not plucked strings often enough to permanently marr his skin in a way it itches to be smoothened, but Niall loves the coarseness that reminds him of the late nights ducked into the studio stringing along to tunes that remained buried in those walls. Only they know what it is. 

__

Harry’s sad, anyone can tell that. It’s staple when it comes to teenage celebrities like divorces come to older one’s. Liam’s still putting his money on the band because he’s afraid he won’t make it alone -  _ he’s wrong. _ Louis’ angry because they’re breaking promises they’d made under thick blankets and a wintery night in a foreign backyard with the fire crackling into ambers, and just like that flame theirs is dying, too. And Niall. He’s searching. For what she hadn’t been kind enough to inform only that he’d been looking in the wrong place. 

__

\--

__

Louis uses a stick they’d found while gathering wood to poke at the fire, the heat of the flames warming Niall’s cheek, his ears turning red from the closeness. Harry’s laying in the hammock that is held between the two large trees, and Liam’s busy tearing open the supplies for s'mores. Dinner had been another uneventful affair with glass on glass of alcohol and rich food that had left them sated. It’s not like they’d planned for this trip to have extravagant activities, it is meant to be just what it is. Niall spots a water bottle sitting beside Liam while he intently works on breaking the chocolate in right proportions for the graham cracker sandwich. With a flick of his wrist Niall raises the water out of the mouth of the bottle enough that it is suspended in the air. He moves it towards Liam’s back and whisks at it, Liam yelping in surprise and falling face front on the ground.

__

Louis starts shaking with laughter, and Harry rushes to get out of the webby tangles of the hammock to Liam’s side, “What the fuck man?”

__

Niall shrugs, “You looked like you were thinking too hard. Thought I’d help.”

__

“Asshole,” Liam mutters, getting up and brushing away Harry’s attempts to see if he’s ok. But then he’s walking towards Niall with a wicked gleam in his eyes that is akin to the one Louis gets when he’s plotting something - they’ve truly been hanging around each other too much. With much ease he goes to grab Niall’s arm which he dodges but then he feels a strong grip around his ankle and he’s being lifted into the air. Louis cackling all the while. 

__

“You gonna do that again?” Liam scolds, like he’s a child. Niall can feel the blood rushing to the base of his skull, the pressure building around his forehead and temples, and somewhere from the corner of his eye he can see Harry worrying his lips. He stretches his fingers and then brings the leftover water to the exposed skin at the nape of Liam’s neck flogging it that it makes a whipping sound. Instinctively, his hold loosens on Niall’s ankle and he drops him - he’d probably incurred an injury if it wasn’t for Louis catching him. 

__

“Don’t be so uptight, Payno,” Niall tests, “Don’t you think it would be cool to use them sometimes. To have  _ fun _ .”

__

“Think we’ve had enough fun for a lifetime. Don’t need to add our freakness into it,” Liam remarks boldly, and Niall winces at the choice of words. 

__

“Liam, mate, it was a joke,” Louis comes to his defense. Harry’s still stock silent. 

__

Liam grumbles, saying something under his breath, but then chooses to say it loud, for all of them to hear.    
  


“Then can someone explain to me why has Niall here been trying to drown himself since we’ve arrived? Oh, wait, you two wouldn’t know cause you’ve been otherwise occupied barking at one another,” Liam’s breathing is coming out uneven, as if each word took an extra push to get out. 

__

Louis’ hand tightens around Niall’s forearm, “What is he saying?”   
  


This wasn’t what he was trying to invoke. He’d just intended to talk. But lately everything with them ends in an argument so he was hoping if he pranks one of them, the one least likely to blow in his face, they can finally ease into the same comfortable feeling they'd had around each other before. 

__

“It’s nothing,” Niall stares Liam down, but that doesn’t seem to be working. 

__

“Nothing? I had to pull you out of the bloody pool  _ just yesterday _ , Niall,” there is this sense of disbelief in his voice and Niall isn’t sure if it’s there because of his lie or because -

__

Harry rounds Liam and comes to sit beside Niall pulling his knees to his chest the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes, he doesn’t say anything though, not even when their shoulders brush ever so gently. Niall knows he’s confused, too. 

__

“I’m not suicidal,” Niall pauses, waving his hand in a way that it seems like he’s directing the wind in his general direction, like he can’t breathe in enough air. “I was testing  _ how far _ I can take it.”

__

“What happened to not experimenting with the -”

__

“Powers,” Louis supplies in lieu. 

__

“Right, powers. What happened to keeping them under check and not making a show out of it?” Liam asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

__

“Easy to say when you can just hide yours by blaming the gym. Not all of us have the liberty, Liam,” Niall bites back, the words hard and rough on his tongue unlike his usual passive disposition.

__

Liam huffs frustrated, and Louis’s spindly fingers keep digging into the flesh of Niall’s bicep and Harry. Well, he’s learned to be quiet more often than not. 

__

“Well, fuck, how is yours  _ so _ hard to hide? All you have to do is not think about it. Should be easy enough enough, yeah? This band has mastered the art of not thinking, or doing, things when need be?” 

__

Niall knows he’s talking about  _ him _ , he’s not gonna take the bait, not when Liam shouldn’t be mad at them. It hadn’t been their fault. The events that led up to him leaving or the decision to continue without, neither was for them to take blame for.

__

“Cause it’s like living a lie! Always a fucking lie with everything we do, and I’m tired,” Niall replies, not stopping though. “Have you stopped to think how  _ hard  _  it is? How some of us burden the weight of everyone on their shoulders and don’t even bat our eyes?”

__

Harry flinches at that. 

__

“What the fuck are you talking about, Niall?” Liam says.

__

He won’t get it. They don’t, none of them, because they’ve made their peace with everything that has happened to them like it had been some sort of god-made plan they’re meant to follow no matter what. Niall can’t stand that. He jerks away from Louis’ hold and walks away from the campsite towards his tent that he is sharing with Harry, but for now they all know better to come after him. There had been time when they would’ve no matter what. 

__

Sleep comes easy after that. He only wakes up when he hears the rustling of the tent unzipping with a weird toe stepping into the mostly flat surface, “Sorry didn’t mean to wake you up, but Louis wanted me to ask you if you’d want something to eat or drink.”

__

Niall turns over not bothering to answer, but then immediately feeling guilty so he says, “I think I’m turning in for the night.”   
  


There isn’t any noise so Niall assumes that Harry left, but then there is a soft touch of fingers digging into his ankle following with a hand wrapping around it. They’ve always been different that sometimes it allows them to be intuitive towards how people are feeling. A streak of empathy that most people faze out of over time, or don’t possess to begin with, but for them they're careful with each other.

__

Harry rubs the nub of his ankle for a while, moving in circular motion the pad of his thumb smooth on his skin, and Niall thinks maybe he’s allowed to voice what he’s been dealing with. Thinks Harry probably can feel it too even if he does his best not to read the boys, ever. 

__

“Do you ever think it’s unfair of us to keep these -  _ powers _ ,” he mumbles remembering Louis’ words, “To ourselves?”

__

He doesn’t elaborate just to gauge Harry’s reaction to see if he agrees in the slightest, otherwise there is no point in this conversation. When the silence stretches for a beat too long he figures he asked the wrong thing attempting to close his eyes to dissipate the clawing at the pit of his stomach. 

__

“Like you’re guilty to not help?” Harry says, tentative. There is resignation in his words like he’s turned over these pages just as he would of his favorite book over and over, every time in search of something he’d missed, something new he could learn, the words pulling apart rather than blending into a jumbled mess. Niall wonders,  _ how long have you felt so guilty? _

__

He gets up on his elbow, letting his hand hold his head upright, and looks at Harry sitting at the foot of his sleeping bag, “We could do anything, we could help, we could  _ make it better _ for so many. But we’re so busy hiding like there is something wrong.”

__

“It was best for the band,” Harry tries, eyes failing to meet Niall’s. 

__

“Do you think in another universe we’d be busy saving the world?” Niall asks, finally sitting up hands skittering down to where Harry’s are. One latched to his ankle the other lying idly in his lap; he doesn’t touch him.

__

“I’d like to think in another universe the world doesn’t need saving,” Harry tucks the errant curl behind his ear that had been obstructing his vision. His hair is so much shorter, shorter than how he had at the start of the band, and that makes him look infinitely more vulnerable. 

__

“I like it,” Niall comments.

__

“What the world not being doomed?”

__

“Nah,” he stops, reaching to twirl his finger around the almost flat curl. “The new hair. You look good.”

__

Harry smiles at that. 

__

\--

The club is at the end of the beach with an open concept dance floor made out of wooden panel, and a barrier looping around the back, a small terrace, and the middle flooding in neon pink lights with a bar setup at the far back. Niall is sitting on one of the stools watching Louis and Liam watch the game in the booth they’d stolen at arrival, nursing drinks of their own; committed men not too bothered to find company for the night. Harry’s on the dance floor dancing with a pretty blonde all legs with sun-kissed skin. Niall smiles at his friend charming the lady as he pulls her closer, and the rest is history. 

__

He swivels in his chair flagging down the bartender for another glass when he senses it, a pair of eyes boring holes into the back of his head. A sudden heat rises up his neck making him sweat in his tank top at the uncomfortable situation. With a gulp of his drink he braves to turn a smidge to see who it is, the person quickly turning their attention to the plate of chips in front of them at his movement. From what he can tell it’s a girl, the curve to her figure in the black hoodie and skinny jeans gives it away, nimble fingers playing with the limp fries. Then she’s glancing up to meet his eyes, holding a stare, and he can’t see much beside the green light darkening half of her face the other covered thanks to the hood she’s wearing. 

__

There is a leaky tap in the kitchen, and Niall can hear it from where he is sitting near the bar even with the booming bass of the speakers, the dripping not ceasing even though someone washed dishes just about ten minutes ago. There was a drink spilled in the booth on the opposite side of the club, and the soda fountain is empty and the bartender is busy filling it. Niall can tell all these things because his affinity to water allows him to. There are other things he can do too like closing his eyes and thinking about the peace of the ocean, and a time when hiding was only meant to be part of a children’s game. He can sing a note written for someone else and he can pluck the strings of a guitar until his fingers are trembling from use. But right now, he can’t see the hooded gaze of this near stranger. 

__

She pushes back the stool and climbs off beelining towards the door with an urgency in his step he leaves money on the countertop following after her, not caring to stop to let his friends know of his departure, and before he’s even stepped outside into the humid air he can hear the smooth course of blood in his arms, legs, to his head.  With a gulp of the ball of nervousness wedged in his throat he says out loud, “is there something you need?”

__

The girl had stopped a little ways out of the club, her straight back  facing Niall, and she kicks at the rubble on the ground, her converse scuffed up at the toes, and her hoodie pulled to cover the length of her long limbs. The road is illuminated with lamps down the street that look like lanterns suspended in mid-air, or like little spirit fires from that Ghibli studio movie he saw when he was younger failing to recall the name now, and then her shrill voice is cutting through, “I’m a big fan. Your music is very important to me.”

__

Niall relaxes a little at that, his shoulders go slack and he even moves towards her, but it seems as if that isn’t welcomed because his little step is retaliated with a step forward by the girl. This part he doesn’t get often where the fan moves away from him, mostly they are ecstatic to be in close proximity, and eager to touch him wherever appropriate. It is surprising enough in itself that someone knows who he is here on this small beach away from the core civilization. Here where he’s had time to think. Where the ocean sings his name like he does every so often with words on a stage. 

__

“Thank you,” politely he says, “Would you like a picture?” 

__

The offer is more to understand the reluctant behavior on the girls’ part, but then she’s pulling her shoulders inwards and he’s frowning thinking that he’d not been aware of his intimidating stature. “I don’t think you’d like that,” he’s about to protest, but. “You write songs, and they make me feel  _ better _ . That it is okay to be me and when I heard you were here I had to find you. To let you know.”

__

Niall has heard that before, but this sounds different, his heart warms up all the same though thinking even if he can't use his fingers to make a show of the fire hydrant perched on the sidewalk to their left, he can do this. His tongue has this salty taste to it, and he’s saying, “I am glad to know that they help. You shouldn’t have to feel that there is something wrong with you though because I’m sure you’re wonderful.”

__

The girl chuckles, amused, “When you’re ¼ of the biggest band in the world, and look as you do then it is easy to say. There isn’t anything appealing about someone who looks more like a lizard than a human.” And then she’s turning to take off her hoodie, and the first thing Niall notices is the shock of red falling in layers cupping the heart shaped face. Niall’s never seen such bright red hair.

__

Her skin is scaly like those gems in the documentaries they show on discovery, one with a smooth cold surface with colors shifting under the surface, that are forged under fire and magma over thousand of years of labors by the elements. Hers is this emerald green that glimmers under the street light and he’s touching the curve of her jaw to feel the skin under his skin. The softness is staggering since he’d thought it would be more like peeling paper-mache, crumbling, coarse. 

__

Her eyelids are thin bare of eyelashes, but the honey colored eyes are beautiful, and he says tipping her head up, honest, “You’re pretty stunning in my books.”

__

The streets are empty and if he spreads his arms wide he can pretend he can fly through the darkness with friends trailing on his back unknowingly, utmost trust gripping them together. Right now though Niall sits next to a girl a year at most younger than him with the sleeves of her hoodie pulled up to her elbows, relishing the cool breezing slapping in their faces, and this is a first for her. Sitting under the flickering streetlight talking about a time when she could have friends, and when she didn’t seem so different, about how when she turned 7 the color of her skin changed overnight, about homeschool and the attack in America that made her believe she was a threat.

__

A mutant they’d called them. Disease like creatures who supposedly spread it, who made it their mission to rattle town after town to convert people to monsters like them, but they were wrong, she knew because she had held her little sister's hand who was normal, she’d kissed her forehead everyday for the past ten years before putting her to bed. And she was fine, completely and safely. They’re taught that they’re different, that they don’t deserve to have a place to belong, and funny is they’ve made sure they don’t get to have one to call home. 

__

Niall could’ve had that life, could’ve told people and felt the petrified glares, but he didn’t, instead kept it holed in his chest like a well, bucket after bucket with each person coming in his life filling it enough that he didn’t know if he was brimming or always empty. There was little distinction. But then at sixteen he’d met them, four other boys who had wary eyes that darted nervously to their surroundings, whose faces had a similar ache one he’d seen on his own, and he’d thought  _ maybe it’s not just me _ .

__

That was more than five years ago; going on six now. Niall had been able to put this part of him aside to focus on something he’d enjoyed, something he’d been proud of, and when they hit the pause button on it, he chose to help in a way he’d financially willed himself able to. But,  _ it isn’t enough _ . It isn’t, no.

__

He feels a tap on his shoulder, fingers knocking against the skin, “What are you thinking?”

__

Niall blinks, the passerbys on the streets dwindled down to tired drivers passing out in the front seats of their cars, clubgoers leaning against the streetlamps hailing for cabs, and says, “I am not that normal, either.”

__

From the corner of his eyes he can see Kira frowning, the turn of her pink lips directed at him, and then he spots the puddle of water near the curb of the road, rippling under the force of the car speeding by. He unfurls his index finger from where it was curled on his arm and swivels it around. Her eyes follow the movement of the length of his fingers and then to the water rising above the asphalt to tower the potted plants alongside the road. Niall hears her choke on her breath, her own hand coming to rest on his thigh, her nails scratching the insides. 

__

There is a sound of a click of the lock turning from the club door and with that he immediately drops his hands in his lap, momentarily waiting for the people to step out, and in their wake he feels fingers interlocking around his like a steady anchor willing him to not float away to the sound of the city going to sleep. 

__

-

__

There’s a flood. One that runs up the coast like a wailing giant demanding attention, finding some kind of release from the agony of the temperamental storm that’s been looming over it’s head for the past few days. So, there is a flood. And the weather telecaster says it won’t be too bad, that you’re good to go to the market today, that the shaking of the bamboo heavy structure will outlive this. Niall tosses and turns, his fingers burning, then freezing, stinging from the icy grip, then they’re being thawed by the warmth of the water closer to the core. There is sweat welling at the curve of his collarbones, and his pits are sticking to his skin like they’re honey glazed. But it’s a yell for help that forces him to get up, jostling him out of sleep, the window to his room shaking from the storm set outside. 

__

Niall sits up scrubbing a hand over his face, pressing his eyes close and then opening them again, but before he can get out he spots Louis stalking down the hallway. Even in the darkness of his room he can see the tense spread of his shoulders left bare. He follows after him, tossing aside his blanket and ignoring the shiver running down his spine at the restlessness of the ocean, feet soundly stepping down the hall to Harry’s room

__

Harry’s hands are fisted around his sheets and Louis has paused in the doorway, and Niall doesn’t need powers to hear his thoughts screaming  _ am i allowed _ .

__

For them he steps forward walking to Harry’s bed and sitting at foot, hand reaching to curl around his ankle and rubbing at the nub just as Harry had earlier, shushing him, “Wake up. It’s just a dream.”

__

His voice is coarse; sleep heavy. But he knows his touch is soft enough to breach through whatever Harry is dreaming of, and he shouldn’t be so confident in his ability, but when you’ve lived most of your adolescent life in each other's’ pockets then it’s easier to stake these claims. To say,  _ you’re my friend and I am here to help. _

__

Niall tugs at Harry’s ankle and the jerk makes the younger boy shift in his sleep, and with a drowsy grunt on his part he’s pulling his eyes open, slowing down the ragged breathing and evening out the rise and fall of his chest. Satisfied, Niall gets up to flick on the lamp at Harry’s bedside and Louis crosses the threshold to enter the room, silence drowning the sounds of the ocean roaring outside. 

__

Harry simply says, “They’re hurting.”

__

He rarely announces what he feels, how he feels, but sometimes he’ll let them peek in and play with the intricate map of feelings he’s dealing with. He’s different from them. From Louis who can light the fireplace without much help, and Niall who can put it out with just the moisture in the air. He’s different because you can't touch him and see the wonders his body can do, but you have to see it in the dark circles under his eyes, in the punched breaths he takes when he sees one of them upset, in the achy voice he sings to thousands when they’re on stage. 

__

“I’m sorry,” Louis says catching both of them off-guard, prompting them to turn and look at his sleep-heavy eyes. He scratches at the scruff at the base of his chin, walking over to Harry and messing his hair, fingers running through the now short curls, “They’ll be fine. Promise.”

__

Harry’s either too shocked or knows that Louis’ only trying to comfort him from the harsh realities. Niall knows that both are true. Harry nods, accepting the gentle touch and shimmies down laying flat on his back and raising the quilt to cover his chest, arms ducked under. 

__

Niall bends and places a chaste kiss to his forehead, a foreign tug at his heart, and whispers, “If not, I promise to save them.” 

__

Niall isn’t sure if that’s meant to be comforting, but the water is slapping against the sharp rocks and he’s sure he heard a distant wail. Niall isn’t sure if he’s lying about saving them. 

__

Once he’s turned off the light and followed Louis out the door, he hears Harry saying, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

__

\--

A few hours later Harry wakes up again. The sunlight streaming in through his blinds has him stretching his arms on the wide bed, back arching to relieve the dull ache that is settled at the base of his spine, fingers skidding at the headboard’s wood. He lays there eyes pressed shut for a moment, but the silence that ensues has him uneasy. He peeks open his left eye looking at the small opening of the window and sees the sunlight, that’s it. That doesn’t feel right.

__

There was a storm last night if he recalls correctly, but right now everything seems almost somber. Harry starts fretting, quickly slipping from under his sheets, not bothering to put on a shirt, and trekking down the hall. Once he’s nears the staircase he hears the soft static of the TV and voices talking, there is shuffling that he assumes is coming from the kitchen. He climbs downstairs entering the living room with Louis sitting on the floor a cuppa in hand, Liam’s head lolling on the sofa on the other side and the TV set to a news channel. 

__

There are headlines, bold strips running the bottom of the screen in red, and a reporter documenting a middle-aged man. He looks weary; the sleeve of his short is ripped, and from the background you can spot the rubble, the ruination. Harry staggers a little because just as the man starts speaking he starts hearing the noises, the soft cries, the scritch-scratch of nails, so he steadies himself against the sofa arm. Fingers pressing harshly into the soft surface. Niall comes to stand next to him, he can tell from the scent of detergent wafting his way, the chatter of the television fading into the background, “About 4 people died. It happened at the market we went to due to some child. They’re saying that he’s being held accountable for it at the local cell.”

__

Harry barely remembers nodding, eyes stinging when the man says, “Fuckin’ freaks, we need to get rid of them.” He said it in portuguese, but they have subtitles. You’d think the translation will soften the hardness, but the tight lines and hollow look on the man’s face makes it impossible. 

__

“Are they going to kill him?” Harry asks, to no one in particular. “The child, I mean.”

__

Louis answers for him, “Possibly.” He’s always been brave like that. Everyone takes his outbursts for his hot-headedness where he’s rash, and careless, and has no control over his temper. But people have a way of turning fierce love into something it isn’t. He’s bold for those he loves. He’s willing to be the braver one even if it hurts at times. 

__

Harry takes in a deep breath, and the man goes on saying how the little boy was angry at not being able to buy the produce from his feeble money, and when he’d been denied he’d exploded. Then there was a storm. 

__

“When did this happen?” He asks, again. 

__

Liam speaks up this time taking his eyes off his phone; from the corner of his eyes Harry can tell he was texting someone. “Around 8 this morning. The market opens around 7:30 so quite early.” 

__

Niall hasn’t said anything which is terrifying to him because usually he’s the one swearing nonstop at how no one deserves this etc. Though in the quiet lull of the afternoon he seems to have nothing to say. Harry thinks that’s the worst.

__

Liam continues, “These nuisances aren’t helping anyone. Hopefully, they can figure out a way so our kids don’t have to suffer.” Then he backtracks, biting at his words, “Sorry, Lou.”

__

Suddenly, the stifling rigidness of the conversation has him wincing. His shoulder knocks with Niall’s when he takes a step back, but his friend is already turning. They hear the sound of footsteps padding up the carpeted stairs, and Louis lets out a deep sigh, “Liam, you know how he has been. Why aren’t you more careful?”

__

“I’m just trying to get his head on right, Louis. I don’t want him to go around thinking these curses somehow make us special. We’re just as if not more vulnerable than everyone else.”

__

“You’re being a right ass Liam,” Louis gets up from the floor abandoning his half finished cup of tea on the table in the middle of the living room and stalks past Harry probably following after Niall. 

__

Harry closes his eyes for a shuddering moment to stop himself from feeling out the palpable tension in the house, but doing so sort of backfires because the radius of his senses reaches past the house to the little cabins, to the children, to the upset families. The shock opens his eyes and then he hears a loud bang of the door, and hurried steps, turning to find Niall at the end of the stairs, “I’m going to the market, you wanna come?”

__

That is how they find themselves weaving through the same streets they had a day ago, this time their boots grinding atop the rubbly asphalt. Harry tightens his arms around his chest in an attempt to ward off the feeling bubbling in his chest. If he focuses hard enough he can reign control of the voices.  _ If he tries. _

__

The market is a mess. The stalls that had been set up have collapsed and are drenched in water, the tables broken, the carts buried under debris. Harry’s stomach churns unpleasantly, only halting at the sight of a hand pressed under a large rock. Louis bumps into his back then, “Mate, move on, I don’t want to lose Niall.”   
  


Harry doesn’t move. Even when Louis nudges his elbow he doesn’t causing his friend to follow where he’s looking. A sharp intake of breath, and then Harry’s being forced forward, “Harry, move along,  _ please. _ ” There is a slight desperation in his voice and then his defenses are breaking, emotions reeling, and one stands out bright and clear. Harry turns to see Niall ahead of them looking around helplessly, his fingers terribly jittery, and trudges towards him. That’s when they hear a yell, “HELP.”

__

The voice is shrill, sharp, standing out among the grumbling vendors, stunning everyone motionless except Niall. Akin to the briskness of the wind flapping against their raincoats Niall rushes after the voice and instinctively Louis and Harry after. They keep running until they spot a frail old women trembling, pointing at the crumbling shed, drowned in water, and he doesn’t really understand at first, whether she’s just mourning the loss of her home, or. Tirelessly he searches again, and this time he sees the eyes, green like his own blinking with a mask of fear. Niall steps forward first from his side, and Harry can almost hear the erratic beating of Niall’s heart, or maybe, it is Louis’. Or, worse, his own. 

__

“ _ Eu posso ajudar _ ,” Niall says flawlessly.  _ I can help _ . The woman nods, visibly calming down, but Harry can sense the unsteady emotions running through, the way she is cradling her tightened fists near her chest. He figures if Niall is going to do this then he will help too. He has too. So, he takes in  a deep breath and closes his eyes focusing on the child trapped inside and this is new to him. Scary. He clears any past thoughts that he’d been chewing on and calls out to her.

__

_ Can you hear me? _

__

She is startled, of course. Not everyday a strange man decides to raid your mind. It is easier like this even if they have a language barrier because this way she can understand him. So he tries again with a gentler push.

__

_ Love, can you hear me? _

__

_ Yes _

__

Harry feels a hand wrap around his wrist, finds fingers pressing nimbly to the inside, he doesn’t have to thank Louis he knows, but he hopes his friend knows that he’s thankful 

__

_ We are here to help you, ok? _

__

_ Ok. _

__

Harry watches Niall spread out his hands with palms facing the ground, there is slight hesitance in his actions one that can be easily missed if not looked at carefully, but Harry knows that the hesitance is not the fear of not knowing what to do. It’s of it not being enough. As if on cue, the two sides of the pitched roof that were holding each other together concave, one slipping down further, splashing a little water around and almost protectively Louis’ hand curls tighter. The little girl trembles, screaming to harry. 

__

_ Please help us _

__

_ Hey, look at me, I’m the one with the brown hair, can you see me? _

__

_ Yes _

__

_ Now look at the one to my side with his arms stretched out _

__

_ The blonde one? _

__

_ Yes, him. He’ll save you. _

__

The water sinking the houses starts ebbing away, Niall orchestrating it towards himself, but when it reaches halfway point the foundation of the shed starts shaking again so he stops. Louis shouts then, “Can you use the water inside the house to push apart the wooden eaves? Is that possible?”

__

Niall turns, looking at them for the first time since they’d left the house and blinks, “Yeah, I can try.”

__

“If you can manage to push it apart or hold it long enough then I can dash in and get the child,” Louis offers, earnestly. This is the part of his power Louis isn’t afraid of, Harry knows, The part where he can be faster, he can beat time for just those few seconds. Harry gulps, inputting his involvement, “And then if she’s hurt I can heal her. She’s very scared right now.”

__

Niall nods, “Ok, let's do this.”

__

Harry turns back to the girl focusing on her and blocking out any noise or sound, just her. He tries to talk to her, to calm her down, tells her that she needs to duck when she starts feeling the rooftops moving, and she agrees easily. Naturally, at that, his eyes drift to Niall who’s hands are shaking as he pushes the water back, rippling in it’s long strides, and lets it seep under the shed.

__

_ Take a deep breath and then close your nose _

__

The water lifts from the ground and thrusts against the wood, the two pieces creak and then they’re being pushed apart. A hollow space forms between them - it is small, but something - and when Louis deems it enough he lets go of Harry, the warmth of his fingers pressed to his skin dissipating, and runs to the gaping hole. 

__

“Hurry, I am not very good at this,” Niall frets, voice wavering and Harry sprints to his side. They’re not touching because he wants to make sure Niall’s attention towards the child isn’t jostled though he hopes his presence serves as a supportive boost. Louis’ faster than Harry remembers from their very first time of showing each other what they can and can’t do, and the thought of his friend growing with these powers without him even knowing hurts a little. 

__

Louis successfully pulls the little girl out, but she’s crying and then Harry’s scratching through the entire conversation to remember, but his words aren’t fast to come as Niall’s letting go of the eaves just as he mutters, “There is another child in there!”

__

Louis’ eyes widen turning to the collapsing rooftops, and the minute he takes to process and Harry to turn down the frenzy of emotions of the little girl is when Niall runs past him towards the feeble structure, the water under his feet propelling him forward towards the caving hole, and before either Louis or him can do anything the two wooden sides fall.

__

Harry’s voice dies in his mouth, a coil tautening around the hill of his throat, but he can hear Louis screaming, “ _ Niall! _ ”

__

The wobble of his lips, the trembling of his hands, cease when the eaves start to shake again and with a burst they fly open falling onto their shingled backs with a water fountain spouting from the welled ground. Niall is crouched in the middle branding a bloody gash on his forearm that is tightly wrapped around a child no less than a couple of months old. Harry hurtles towards him tripping over debris, and the first thing Niall says to him, looking up at him with wide, clear, blue eyes, “Help him.”

__

Growing up like any other boy his age he’d had a period when he’d been obsessed with superheroes, the kind with powers, the kind that were celebrated for their heroic talents. Sundays the telly would have a marathon and he’d fight Gem every weekend so he could get a few hours of it to himself, to bask in their glory, and smile to the all the good they did. There were a lot of things great about them; their cool costumes, their deep guttural voices, but mostly it was their unabashed selflessness that drew him in. 

__

Standing right now on a foreign island watching his best friend cradle a child in his arms invokes the same warm sensation in his chest. He thinks,  _ you’re a hero. _

__

Harry kneels down taking the baby from Niall, the clear olive skin sporting a bluish tint most likely from the frigidness of the water. Harry searches for Louis who catches his eye and runs to find something warm, meanwhile Niall stays before him staring at the child. Harry brings his fingers to the chest and tamps down his index finger near the heart, closing his eyes. He focuses on his lungs that are having trouble breathing, lets them expand to expend air, relieving any pressure. The color rushes back to the child’s cheeks, a rosy hue on both sides.

__

The baby starts crying just as Louis returns with a wool blanket, helping him wrap the baby, and taking the child from him to give to the lady running a train of thank you’s their way. Harry stays knelt by Niall, cautiously saying. “You did great.”

__

Niall glances up from where he was glaring at the ground and smiles a bit. It widens when the young girl comes along and wraps her gangly arms around his shoulders, whispering thank you’s and crying into his back.  _ They did good _ , he thinks looking over his shoulder at Louis flickering a small flame in his palm and the woman trying to calm the baby. 

__

\--

Harry digs his forefinger into the sand dragging it down until it forms an  _ I _ . Then starts over again this time bending his finger to adjust to the steepness of the letter.  _ A _ . Again he goes to draw three lines from the start and connects them.  _ M.  _ He repeats the same letters three times until the sand next to him has sunk to the touch of his finger, little wells hollowed into the coarseness, allowing him to say. 

__

_ I AM  I AM  I AM _

__

There is an interval of ten minutes of silence that resonates in his bones, enough to leave them restless and achy, and he tries to conjure up the last time he’d had a piece of mind. There has always been a nagging buzz at the back that bogged down any sort of progress he’d had made, physically or mentally  _ it’s all the same _ . Right this second he doesn’t feel the urge to cup his palms around his ear lobes, to duck his head in his knees, and count to a hundred. Usually it works until the buzz starts thundering, an electrical feed in his brain short-circuiting temporarily; not long enough, he sighs. 

__

A pair of hand comes to rest on his shoulders, the callous thumb rubbing circles into the bare skin of his collarbone, reciting the words, “ _ I Am. _ ” There is barely a hint of a question there, it is present under the layers of understanding, so he leaves it be. Figures if he really had to explain he’d be asked outright. 

__

“Can I show you something?” Niall asks, his voice sounding far even though he’s standing behind him. Well, he is standing so it must be that. Or the buzzing. He isn’t quite sure himself.

__

Harry doesn’t answer, but instead looks to his right where the chairs have been splayed open and Liam is passed out under the shade of his umbrella. Louis is reading a parenting book called  _ How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk  _ that has speech bubbles and a sun yellow cover. Freddie’s almost the age where he’s going to start forming his own independent sentences, and Louis’ been worried that the young will get his rebellious streak. Danielle had assured him the night before on the phone that he’ll do just fine like his Dad did, but something has him wary - granted Harry overheard all this, after he’d brought hot cocoa to his friends’ room, without meaning to but he’s sure that Freddie will turn into a strapping young lad. The boy already has 2 ½ mums. Johannah only picked on half of the responsibilities. 

__

So, albeit undecided, he says, “Yeah.”

__

Niall kicks off his flip flops on the deck running past the seaweed tangled ashore on the damp sand, and runs toward the green hued water; jovial steps skidding the cool ocean. Harry trails after halting only when his toes are soaked in the chilly water erupting goosebumps across the span of his bare skin. Niall keeps going though, not so much as waiting or tossing a glance back, and then he’s ducking under the billowing crest of the waves. 

__

Harry pauses, he swears his heart stops beating when Niall doesn’t come right up, but then he feels movement under the sole of his feet, the receptors in his feet tingling to the sensation, and just like that he’s being courted into the water. He closes his eyes and holds his breath for a moment but doesn’t experience the wetness that comes along with diving into the ocean. After much reluctance he opens an eye and finds himself underwater, but the water isn’t touching him. 

__

He opens his mouth and nothing. He spots Niall a little ways near the coral with legs crossed petting a peacock bass which is a very, very much predatory fish as he’d learned on their pre-tour of the Island before they had landed. He wants to swat Niall’s hand away, but the calmness exuding from the animal has him stopped, and it all falls together like puzzle pieces joining to map out who this boy is. 

__

Water. Survival. Life. 

__

Niall preens under the attention then looks back at Harry, grinning, nodding.  _ Can you hear me? _

__

_ Yeah, dumbass _

The water propels Harry forward and he flops around flailing his limbs caught off guard, scaring away the bass, and falls into Niall. Niall catches him by the elbow, reeling him in until they’re standing chest to chest - or floating, he’s not quite sure how underwater dynamics work - and his toe edges the rocks and grinds on the spiky protrusions.  _ But he’s breathing under water _ . 

____  
  


_ This isn’t even it _

__

The water is being pushed apart and they’re being lofted, the water under their feet almost solid, and it takes him back to the clear glass elevator he’d taken in Dubai where he’d felt like he was walking on air. Right now it feels as if he is. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around Niall’s neck facing up and finding himself being propelled out of the depth of the ocean, a warm hand curled protectively around his waist, and then he looks down at Niall’s eyes and the flecks of soft gold burning in the deep blue matches the sunlight reflecting off the surface of the ocean. In the open sky, he finds it harder to breath. 

__

“Who knew I could surf water waves in the  _ air _ . You’d think I took lessons all those times we went to Australia, but nope. It’s just the tips of my fingers,” Niall rambles, clutching to the fabric of Harry’s yellow shorts. They match the haphazardness of Niall’s hair which looks a little like the sun. Harry squints bringing a hand to shade his eyes because the other boy is too bright right now; other hand firmly clasped across his shoulder. 

__

“Dunno, I’ve seen better during W!peout when Tim went face first into the pool of water after slipping off the monkey bars,” Harry kids, and his heart swells a little thinking back to being trapped in a hotel room watching re-runs of horrible reality TV. Niall picked Wipeout. Harry picked Geordie Shore.

__

Niall rolls his eyes, fondly. “You know I’m stronger than every villager combined on this island,” he claims conversationally, his thumb rubbing circles at Harry’s love handles - rippling another wave in Harry’s chest -, “I could do anything if I tried.”

__

The balloon filling in the pit of stomach with hope bursts at the words, falling flat. “What do you want to do with these powers?”

__

“ _ Something. _ ”

__

Afterwards, when they’ve toweled off and retreated to the Villa, Harry pulls out his journal that’s been collecting dust since the trip started. He stumbles upon the sleek gray card with a distinct engraving on it. His thumb rubs over the name thinking back to the walls breaking inside Niall. Today, Harry had broken the one promise he’d made about never seeing what any of them are thinking. He figures, what’s another?

__

Water is powerful. Water is  _ dangerous. _

__

He dials the number. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> please come talk to me at @ rustydreams.tumblr.com about anything tbh


End file.
